


Azureshipping Week 2020

by Guardian_Kysra



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types
Genre: #AzureWeek2020, And all that entails, F/M, Lots of it, Mentions of Casual Sex, Mentions of rough sex, More tags to be added, None of this is to be taken seriously, Rebecca has a dirty mind, Sex Talk, Surprise! - Freeform, Tea is demisexual, UST, everyone is of or above the age of consent, everyone is sex positive, liberal alcohol use in a safe setting, mentions of BDSM, mentions of dominant/submissive dynamics, mentions of drunken sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_Kysra/pseuds/Guardian_Kysra
Summary: A collection of connected vignettes with the Tea/Seto ship at its center in honor of Azureshipping Week 2020!!!!
Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kujaku Mai | Mai Valentine, Kaiba Mokuba/Kawai Shizuka | Serenity Wheeler, Mazaki Anzu | Tea Gardner / Seto Kaiba, Rebecca Hopkins | Rebecca Hawkins/Mutou Yuugi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 20
Collections: Azure Week 2020





	1. Game Night

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've been to a slumber party just as its been a long time since I've been a teen or twenty-something. Still, here is my offering for Azureshipping week! First up: GAME NIGHT in which Tea has just returned to Domino after a long absence and is enjoying a night of girl bonding, junk food, alcohol, card games and a rousing discussion about the sexual proclivities of the many men she has become acquainted with.

“I bet Yugi’s a bottom.” Mai says around the lollipop in her mouth while shuffling the cards. It’s three in the morning, and they are all red-eyed and shit-faced. Somehow catching up in Téa’s new apartment had become a movie night which had then evolved into an adult slumber party for five which was now a strange drunken game night, complete with betting, drinking, and sex talk. Currently, they are discussing whether the men they know are dominant or submissive in the bedroom, starting with casual acquaintances like Weevil and Ryuzaki, now moving into more well-known friends and enemies.

(Téa is still queasy from conjecture about Pegasus.)

Rebecca giggles from her spot sprawled across the floor on her back as she reaches over her head for her cards. “Nah. Yugi’s a top. Lot’s of pent up rage in that little body of his.”

Serenity spews the gulp of wine she had just imbibed. “You and Yugi?” Téa doesn’t blame Serenity for being shocked. Rebecca is only just eighteen, narrowly achieving the age of consent. 

Mai finishes dealing as Rebecca makes googly eyes at her hand. “Honey, I’ve been after that man since forever, and I let him damn well know it. Finally got him to crack on my birthday.” She waggles her eyebrows, a strange sight as she’s gazing at them upside down. “I had bruises for _days_.”

They are playing UNO (Téa doesn’t think they have the brain power for anything more complex, honestly) and the current card is a blue 6. She turns her head a little sideways. Maybe a 9. She squints . . . Nope. An 8.

“Joey could use some pointers from Short Stuff, then. I’m so tired of having to do all the work all the time.” Mai pointedly chomps down on the lolli with her molars, a loud crack sounding from her teeth.

Serenity downs her wine, coughing. “Jesus, Mai. I don’t need to know.”

“Oh, don’t be a prude.” Rebecca twiddles her fingers at the older woman before throwing down a red 8. “We all knew Joey was a bottom. He totally has the hips and ass for it. ACK!” Two pillows – one from Serenity and one from Téa – hit her in the face.

Running at hand over her pony tail, Serenity throws down a red 2 before offering. “I think Duke’s a top.”

Mai tuts. “Nah. Totally a bottom. And he likes his partner to pull his hair.” 

Téa laughs uncontrollably at that one because it’s true, and she will never ever divulge how she knows. “Tristan’s a bottom.” She presses a green 2 down atop the discard pile. “Found out after graduation firsthand.” It had been both their first times. Tristan had brought her home after the commencement party. They had been drunk; she doesn’t remember much except that she had felt cared for and enjoyed herself. 

This sends Mai and Rebecca into hysterics while Serenity blushes deep red and covers her mouth, scandalized. 

Mai sends a green skip card to the pile as Rebecca glares at her. “What about Mokuba, Serenity? Top or bottom?”

Téa blinks, swaying toward the red-head unsteadily. “Mokuba _Kaiba?_ ”

Rebecca snickers. “That’s right . . . You weren’t here while Red here was the subject of an intense and thorough wooing by the youngest Kaiba.” 

Perusing her hand, Serenity sticks her tongue out at the bespectacled blonde. “You make it sound so . . . “

“Interesting.” Téa arranges herself on her cushions, shifting to her stomach and propping her head up on one hand. “Tell me about all about it.”

Mai snorts. “There’s nothing to tell. Mokuba is possibly even hotter than his dickhead older brother. He ended up in the restaurant where Serenity works, chatted her up –”

“Then,” Rebecca breaks in as Serenity becomes more and more visibly mortified, “he starts sending her these little notes at work – nothing trashy just things like ‘I enjoyed talking to you the other day’ or ‘Hope you’re having a good time at work.’ Real sweet like. He starts dropping in all the time by himself and with corporate big wigs, always asks for her specifically to wait on him then gives her these huge tips and –"

Mai picks up the story again, “One day he writes his phone number on the bill. Serenity held onto it for a good – what?” Here she looks at the girl in question. “A few weeks?”

Serenity sets down her cards and buries her face in her hands. “A month.”

“Right, a month.” Mai shakes her head. “Anyway, after a month, he asks her if she’s lost his number and tells her if she wants him to stop bothering her he will.”

Here, Mai stops in the retelling, and Téa isn’t having it. “What happened? Obviously you didn’t tell him to get lost, so . . . “

“I told him he wasn’t bothering me,” Serenity’s voice is muffled by her hands. “That I just wasn’t sure what he wanted exactly. He looked sort of put out then said he would try to be more obvious.”

Rebecca chimes in, “That’s when he pulled out the Big Guns: flowers, chocolates, VIP passes to all sorts of sold out events he somehow knew she’d be interested in. She _finally_ called him to thank him and let him know that she really didn’t need all of these gifts.”

“I told him if he had wanted to date me, all he had to do was ask me out.” Serenity’s hands are now in her lap, a high blush painting her cheeks, her eyes glassy but sparkling. “So he did.”

Mai throws all of her cards in the air, watching them flutter to the floor. “Still doesn’t answer the question: bottom or top?”

Rebecca wiggles on the floor. “I’m betting top, and he likes to tie her up.”

Téa giggles. “I’m not guessing on this one. To me, he’s still a little kid.”

Mai clucks her tongue. “I’m going to take your bet Becky. I say he’s a bottom and he likes to be spanked.”

Gape mouthed, Serenity wordlessly points to Mai. 

This has Rebecca scrambling unsteadily to her knees, laughing. “OH MY GOD! Are you serious?”

Melt down red, Serenity seems to try to shrink into herself. “He . . . likes to be tied up too. And I sort of . . . enjoy being in control.”

Mai reaches over to pet the underside of Serenity’s jaw. “Our little dominatrix. I’m so proud.”

Still choking on laughter, Rebecca wonders. “So . . . do you think the older Kaiba has similar kinks? Think he’s a top?”

Téa snorts. “That control freak probably requires a full physical and signed NDA before even _thinking_ of letting anyone near his _white dragon.”_ She sucks contemplatively on the mouth of her beer. “Also, he probably has a sex dungeon in the basement.”

Pulling a pillow to cushion her head, Mai swings one arm, spreading the mess of empty bottles, half-full bowls, UNO cards, and betting chips. “You’ve been watching too much _Fifty Shades of Grey_ , girl.” A pause then, “I finally convinced Joey to let me have Kaiba as my free pass.” A heavy sigh, “I bet he’s a top. There’s no other reason for him to retain that much upper body strength.”

“Couldn’t possibly be because he has time on his hands and maybe _enjoys_ fitness.”

Mai and Rebecca shoot her near identical looks of pity. “Oh sweetie,” Mai coos, “it’s been years since you’ve seen him.”

It’s true. Téa had spent the last five years in the United States, studying dance for four years and enjoying one year as a principal dancer in the New York Ballet Company. Unfortunately, a leg injury and two surgeries later had left her financially drained, physically exhausted, and without a job. She had recently moved back to Domino after securing a teaching job at the same dance studio she had attended as a kid. 

Serenity murmurs sleepily. “Seto isn’t bad. He can actually be quite sweet.”

Rebecca is less diplomatic. “I would climb that man like a tree if I didn’t have Yugi’s dick to look forward to.”

Even Mai licks her lips. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to sit across from him during board meetings while imagining him fucking me into the table so hard it breaks.”

Téa chortles, weakly throwing a handful of cards at her older friend. “Does Joey know about your illicit fantasies for your boss?”

“Oh, he knows. Pisses him off so bad, makes the sex so goooood.”

Serenity snores, deep in a drunken sleep.

A visibly groggy Rebecca pulls one of the many blankets nesting their little indoor camp over her legs and hmms as she gets comfortable. “Didn’t you have a thing for him back in the day, Téa?”

“I wouldn’t call it a ‘thing.’ I just . . . appreciated his good looks.”

“Mmmmmhhhhmmmm.” Mai curls up on the floor, obviously ready to doze. “I was there, girlie. ‘Appreciation’ is an understatement.”

Téa swats at Mai’s hair which had settled over her face. “Whatever. It wasn’t anything serious. Just a rebound after Yami pass on. No big deal.”

Rebecca laughs sleepily, eyes closed and breath slowing. “Hope I’m . . . there . . . when you . . see . . . hhhmmm aagggnnnn.”

Mai’s whispery snores are a counterpoint to Serenity’s louder ones, and Rebecca’s mouth goes slack as she falls into slumber. Téa sighs tiredly before rising, her body aching from alcohol and hours of lying on the floor, and moves to shut off the lamp.

She’ll clean up the mess later. After a few hours sleep.


	2. An Invitation to a Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tristan might be a dead man; Mokuba's grown up; and Tea hates parties for more reasons than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, this was unedited.

_Tristan is a dead man walking,_ Téa thinks not for the first time that night. She is dressed in a metallic gold sheath dress that is loose at her chest and tight on her hips, flowing like water to her feet. Her long hair is partially pulled back, the length falling over her shoulders in sweet smelling waves only a professional salon can provide.

Kaiba Corp. has changed a bit since last she stood in its bowels. Of course, she had never been privy to the banquet room, had never known there was a ball room just adjoining. People are milling about in suits and glittery dresses, tuxedoed waiters gracefully negotiating the body traffic laden down with trays of finger foods and champagne flutes. 

There are several tables dressed in pristine white cloths and decorated in tasteful center pieces in pinks, peaches, and apricot hues, candle flame providing most of the ambience, perfectly arranged place settings with bronze cutlery. And at the head of it all: a stage with large screens on either side and above emblazoned with an animated Kaiba Corp logo.

Mako was supposed to be here; however, she and Tristan had broken up a week ago leaving Tristan to seek out a favor from Téa. He had neglected to tell her the “party” was work related and would be held in one of the last places she wanted to reacquaint herself with.

She slides her hands down her thighs, feeling the smooth material and hoping the sweat pooling in her palms Yminutes she had been approached by three men – all older, . . . too old – and four waiters offering champagne. She isn’t planning to drink tonight nor is she going to take anyone home, much less accompany a stranger.

As it is, she might have to bow out early with the way her still-recovering leg is aching and wobbling on the moderate heels she had chosen to wear.

As another waiter passes with a tray of delicate cucumber sandwiches, Téa asks if water is being offered as an alternative to champagne. He points out a table lined with crystal tumblers before continuing on his way.

Checking around to see if Tristan is nearby (or anyone that she might know otherwise), Téa grabs her clutch from where she had laid it on a nearby podium to gingerly make her way toward the water table. She has just taken a much-needed sip when from behind her, “Téa?” 

The voice is deep tenor, decadent and smooth like a rich dark red wine. She turns slowly to find a man she’s certainly never seen before (yet is oddly familiar) standing before her. He is ridiculously tall, slim and wiry. Unlike every other male in attendance, he is dressed sans jacket, clad in a fitted white shirt with the collar popped, a gray waistcoat peaking from beneath a black vest. Gray slacks are obviously tailored (along with the rest of his clothes). His dark hair is clipped but edging on ‘long’, fringe falling into his gray eyes and skimming the line of his strong jaw. A large smile is spread across his face, pearly whites gleaming down on her like diamonds.

She squints at him. Even though he’s close enough to see clearly, there is still a slight fuzzy halo around the lines of his form. _I really need to see about glasses . . ._ “Yes?”

The man laughs in delight and scoops her up off her feet into a bear hug, spinning her about as she both clings and tries to get her bearings. When he sets her down, she is ready to give him a piece of her mind when something about the way his eyes sit in the frame of his face. She gasps when recognition hits. “ _Mokuba?!_ Oh my god!”

He laughs again, pulling her into a more sedate, appropriate hug. “When did you get so _short?”_

Smacking him in the arm, she can’t stop smiling. “When did you get so _tall_?” Their hands come together in a loose hold, swinging between them. “I used to think your brother was a giant and now you’ve overtaken him!”

“Nah, bro finally stopped growing when he reached 2 meters. I’m about 1.9.” A pause then, “I’m stoked to see you here. Serenity told me you had returned a few weeks ago, and I’ve wanted to stop by and say hi, just haven’t had a second coordinating this shindig.”

“Well, you’ve done a great job! Everything is lovely.”

“And you’re gorgeous.”

Her cheeks suddenly feel warm. She giggles and reaches up to pinch his cheek. “You’re cute. And taken, you little shit.”

“Guilty.” His eyes shift slightly to the right before he rolls his eyes and groans. “It’s almost time for dinner and presentations.” 

She squeezes his hand. “Go ahead. Just promise we’ll catch up later.”

He beams and catches her up in his arms one more time, not releasing her until he presses his lips to her forehead and cheeks in turn. “Absolutely. I’ve missed my ‘big sister.’”

Her eyes prickle and nose aches. “Missed you too.”

They part but not before exchanging numbers and a promise to share a dance (despite Téa’s bum leg, she’s actually looking forward to it). As he walks away, he repeatedly looks back, as if he can’t quite believe she’s here. She grins and waves every time, happier than she’s been in a long time. Mokuba has always been one of her favorite people.

The next hour or so is spent at a table with Tristan to one side, Yugi and Rebecca (sporting matching belt chokers) to the other, and two other couples she doesn’t know. They dine on artesan bread, hand-churned butter, caviar and bruschetta, gourmet meals of veal or quail, deep sea fish, vegetable turine or pasta. The deserts are beautifully wrought cakes, hearty fruit pies, miniature tarts, and simple gelato. 

They eat as Kaiba Corp executives speak about charity and revenues and future projects in equal parts optimism, staid confidence and subdued excitement. The last remarks are spoken by Seto; but Téa misses it, having been in the ladies’ room when he took the stage. She shrugs when Tristan tells her so.

Foregoing the desert, Téa chooses to order a coffee – black, two sugars. She’s growing ever more tired and the dancing hasn’t even begun. Nearly every other thought that passes behind her eyes involves taking off her shoes.

Soon enough, they are herded into the adjoining ballroom which is . . . something out of the ballroom scene in _Labyrinth,_ all prismatic crystal, silver gilt and white drapery. A few couples waste no time or music, immediately finding a spot on the expansive floor and beginning a dance. Tristan checks in with her before pulling a playfully refusing Mai from Joey’s side. 

Joey doesn’t ask her to dance. Instead, he finds her a seat, to rest her leg. He knows her surgery wasn’t very long ago, that she’s still – technically – recovering though physical therapy ended before she had boarded the plane back to Japan. “You doin’ okay?”

She smiles, says she’s fine even though she really just wants to go home. Parties ceased to be something she enjoyed sometime during her first year in University. Perhaps it was the prospect of getting lost in the midst of a bunch of strangers after everything she and her friends had been through in high school. Simply, she had more fun (and felt safer) hosting a small group of friends at her home.

That, and she hadn’t been able to wear underwear with her dress, and she is becoming more and more uncomfortable as the crush of people around her thickens with the mass ingress. 

Not to mention her shoes. She really, really wants to remove her shoes. Why hadn’t she thought to sneak flats in her clutch? Or slippers? Or something similar, like socks, no matter how inappropriate and outlandish? She closes her eyes as she fantasizes slipping her feet into a tub of hot water infused with lavender Epsom salts. 

Tristan interrupts the sweet daydream when he pulls her up and drags her onto the dance floor, taking her into his arms and “leading” her into something resembling a waltz if it had four counts instead of three. She follows as long as she is able, eventually pushing him away to hobble toward the edge of the floor, excusing herself with a, “Dance later. Need toilet.”

She finds a corner deep into he room covered in thick drapes and slips behind them. It’s dark there but no one knows she’s there and no one can see her wince and hiss and hop as best she can on her one good foot and why the hell did she think heels was a good idea? She holds onto the wall, keeps her weight off her pained foot, takes off the cursed shoes. There’s a seam in the wall just hinted around the corner, the curvature of a door knob. She wonders if there will be chairs inside.

The little room is well-lit . . . possibly some sort of transition corridor, white walls – one lined with windows that stretch from her waist to the ceiling and only as thick as her shoulders, white floors and no furniture. There are two doors and a silver elevator door with no buttons, just a key reader.

Shoes in hand, she lays her hands on either corner wall, leaning forward, letting the brick and mortar take her weight as she lifted her – no doubt – swollen naked heel from the floor. Breathing in, breathing out slowly as she counts the seconds, trying to wrestle the pain from strong nuisance to manageable. 

She’s not sure how long she’s there, but eventually, her shoes are allowed to fall to the floor, her foot is fully lifted to rest against her standing knee beneath the dress, and she’s looking out the window into the night, watching the lights of the city overwhelm the stars.

“Enjoying the view?” 

Téa’s entire body goes tight and tingly. She could never forget that voice nor the man it belonged to. It is – literally – the last voice she heard before boarding the plane to the states. She swallows hard against the lump suddenly blocking her throat even as she glances forlornly at her shoes. He had always loomed over her, she supposes four inches aren’t going to make much difference if he now measures 2 whole meters tall. 

Bringing her foot down to the ground again, she breathes out as she gradually places some of her weight on it and turns to a face she had wanted to avoid.

Téa isn’t a petite woman. She comfortably stands an average height; however, this man dwarfs her easily, well over head taller than her. He’s smirking that dark, sensual smirk of his, his hair falling into his familiar blue eyes – slightly longer than she remembers it and styled slightly differently as a result. He continues, “I am.”

She barely hears him, her attention taken by the strong-looking breadth of his shoulders tapering into a trim waist and tight hips, his suit cut to perfection, hugging his figure in attractive sharp lines. The memory of that body, naked and sweat slicked, flashes behind her eyes. She blinks, coming back to herself. “I’m sorry?”

His smirk deepens, reminding her of the Cheshire cat . . . or just a cat whose just identified prey. “ _I am_ . . . enjoying the view.”

 _Well, that’s new_ , Téa muses with a light flush to her cheeks and decolletage, unsure how to react to this flirtatious version of the usually dour man. It’s . . . unsettling. One of her defining personality traits is her friendliness and social fluency. It’s strange to look at someone she knows – _knew –_ rather well – _intimately –_ and be completely stumped at how to talk to them. She had never had this problem with Tristan or any of her ex-boyfriends in the States. 

Then again, she had been friends first with all of them. With this man, she had been a classmate, an acquaintance, an adversary, and . . . a one-night stand. It’s the last that rattles her the most, because it’s the one that made the strongest impression. 

She musters a friendly if distant smile, trying to banish the memories of his kiss, his touch, the way her body stretched for him, the greedy way she’s wanted him again all these years. “How have you been, Kaiba?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Something Human --


	3. Something Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea is having a DAY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again - not edited >_<

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three, four -- Arms higher Sakura – seven, eight. One, two – Straighten that leg Izumi – six, seven, eight.” Téa struggles to focus on the girls’ movements, on the music and the counts. Her mind is kilometers away, days ago . . . in a little well-lit corridor with multiple windows facing down the one man on Earth she had (at once) never wanted to see again and hoped to sleep with one more time.

_“How have you been, Kaiba?”_

_He leaned back slightly into his hips, hands slipping into his pockets, completely at ease and looking more than pleased. “All the better for seeing you tonight.” He cocked his head a little. “And you, Miss Gardner?”_

_Under her gown, she shuffled her feet, ironically wishing – again – for her shoes, if only for a momentary distraction. Once, she had known how to deal with Seto Kaiba. Now, he was a stranger in an overly familiar body. “Glad to be back home.” She huffed a breath, gathering the courage to meet his gaze with hers. “Mokuba did a wonderful job organizing this gala. You must be very proud of him.”_

_She had to mentally stop herself from twiddling her fingers as his expression changed from (unexpectedly) flirtatious ex-lover to stony businessman. “Small talk, Miss Gardner? I thought we knew each other better than that.”_

Watching the kids run through the set twice more while counting and making comments, Téa tells them that they’re going to do this One. More. Time. before dismissal. She smiles as they get into position, remembers what it was like to be a student with stars in her eyes and excitement buzzing through her limbs. 

Her love of dance has never wavered; however, she isn’t a naïve doe-eyed child anymore, and she’s experienced, first hand, the cut throat business of professional ballet. There’s a part of her that didn’t want to leave that world. Another, greater, part is happy to be home – a part made all the larger by her encounter with Seto a few days ago.

_Licking suddenly dry lips, T_ _éa stomped down the impulse to apologize . . . for any number of things between them. “And yet you call me ‘Miss’.” Honestly, the fact he refused to say her name told her more about his feeling regarding their last parting than any empty flirtation, and it was quietly breaking her already fractured heart._

_It didn’t escape her notice that he had used the past tense “knew each other”._

_His smile held no warmth, no joy though his eyes seem to swallow her whole, wrapping her up in a warm blanket of blue velvet. “Merely a sign of respect, T_ _éa, I assure you.”_

_She nodded, sighed, cleared her throat. “Well, I’m . . . glad I had a chance to see you. We should . . catch up sometime.” She could feel the heat of her blush drop to the tops of her shoulders as she moved to fetch her shoes. “I have to go back to the dancing. I had promised Mokuba . . .”_

_He beat her to the shoes, holding them in one large hand, the awkward shape of the shoes taking nothing from the elegance of his long fingers. “We can catch up while we dance. Mokuba won’t mind if I steal you away for one song.”_

After the last girl is picked up by their parents, Téa throws on a hoodie over her dance wear, cleans the equipment and locks up. The weather is entering the doldrums of autumn and the night sky is threatening rain. 

It’s been a long day of doctor appointments, working on choreography, waiting tables (her day job) and teaching dance. Her leg is on fire and she allows herself a small limp to cope. She groans when she remembers there are groceries to buy if she wants to have something besides canned beans for dinner tonight. 

Thankfully there is a small grocery near the studio that is clean and well-organized with a reasonable selection. She’s not in there long, only needing a few essentials – eggs, spring onion, a few apples, etc.; but when she makes her egress, it is pouring rain.

And her without an umbrella.

She sighs and passes a hand over her face in exasperation. Her apartment is only two blocks away but with her leg . . .

_Stepping as softly and slowly as she could without giving away her physical vulnerability, she stood before him, chin raised and a scowl darkening her brow. “You don’t dance.” At least, that was what he had told her after graduation, at the commencement party. He had been standing – imperious and unwelcoming – on the edge of the dancefloor with his arms crossed over his chest. She had bounced toward him, laughter on her lips and a red Solo cup in hand, intent on dragging him into the fray for some much needed fun._

_Her efforts had been fruitless then, but – thinking about it now – maybe that was when he began looking at her with that studying, focused look . . . the one that felt like a physical touch, peeling back the layers of her to reveal all of her inner secrets._

_He shrugged, reaching to grab her wrist and pull her close. She didn’t resist, couldn’t. Her body was too busy going up in flames with the touch of his skin on hers. “I do now.”_

_Practically carrying her with one arm, he brought her through the door she had come through, pushed the curtains aside to reveal the full dance floor, the glamour of the many couples sparkling under the spot lights with their beaded, sequined dresses and gemstones. This wasn’t T_ _éa’s usual scene, but she couldn’t help becoming a little enchanted._

_Seto shifted her in his arms to prop her to standing on his shoes. Her own shoes seemed to have vanished, his hands coming around to cradle her securely as he began leading the dance. She was helpless, craning her neck to stare up at him and unable to parse exactly what she was feeling – some amalgam of nerves, offense, confusion, and desire._

_His heat was a balm she hadn’t known she needed for years. She registered and savored the force and strength of his hands on her body like an addict hunting for another hit. The way his legs nudged hers as they “danced” around the room reminded her of having all of him – of her thighs pressed tight against his hips as he pounded his body into hers . . . of his shoulders – those wide, strong shoulders - breaking between her legs as his lips and teeth and tongue feasted at her c—_

_“How am I doing, T_ _éa?” Being so close, she felt his voice as much as she heard it – a low rumble that reminded her of rocks falling over a cliff._

_She blinked up at him, hoping her cheeks weren’t red. “I’m sorry?”_

_His lips curled up in the most sinful grin she had ever seen on a man, his eyes practically shredding the gown she wore with nothing but a glance. “How am I doing with the dancing? You are an expert after all.”_

Bouncing the toe of her sneaker against the pavement, Téa ultimately decides she would rather get wet than wait and sprints into the rain, slower than she would have had her legs been whole and healthy. Every footfall reverberates through her ankle like stabbing blades. 

She makes it about half a block before said ankle has had enough, going nerveless under her weight as she sprawls across the curb, her grocery bag flying out of her hands.

_Fucking shit._

Biting her bottom lip against the pain in **both** legs and palms, she slowly sits up to take in the disaster of cracked eggs, rolling (no doubt bruised) apples, and (now) soggy paper bag. She shivers with the wet cold seeping into her tights and hair, down her arms. The dance bag strapped to her back has yet to yield to the rain, and her back is still dry.

_Thank goodness for small miracles._

Loose strands of hair are sticking to her face and neck, droplets sliding over the slope of her nose. Suddenly, the deluge is gone – forming a circular perimeter around her and the bag just out of her reach. “Need some help, Téa?”

 _Fucking shit times **infinity**. _Without looking up, Téa shifts into an unsteady crouch. “I’m fine, Kaiba.” His hand wraps around her forearm, large and spanning the full circumference without difficulty, as he carefully, gently helps her up. She keeps her injured leg bent, the toes of her foot barely touching the ground, as she thanks him.

But he’s already handed her the umbrella, already walked into the rain to gather what groceries are salvageable and cleaning up the rest. She watches all of this feeling absolutely lost and wondering if she’s somehow stumbled into an alternate dimension. This isn’t normal behavior for the usually aloof CEO. 

Even that one time they had slept together, Kaiba had retained an air of distance . . . somehow. It’s why she feels so awkward in his presence now, why she is overcome with something resembling shyness and caution. It obviously meant much more to her than it did to him.

“Are you on your way home?” He’s before her again, looking down at her with an unreadable expression that grounds her back in the present. 

“Yes . . . though apparently, I’m going to have to go back and pick up some more eggs.” She hasn’t even finished her sentence and he’s already shaking his head, guiding her by the elbow and offering his arm for stability. 

“You’re riding with me. The groceries will be delivered.” She scowls at his cheek in _ordering_ her to do _anything_.

“No, I’m not. Thank you for asking.” His mouth presses into a straight line of displeasure.

“Still stubborn, I see.”

“And you’re still arrogant.” He smirks, letting her go long enough to strip off his black trench coat and wrap it around her shoulders. She hadn’t noticed she was shivering until his body heat, clinging to the interior lining, enveloped her. 

“It’s not arrogance if it’s warranted.” His smirk softens into a real smile – precious for its rarity (Téa’s only witnessed twice in their long history). “Let me take you home, Téa.”

She swallows, glancing at the car that has just rolled up to the curb. Her leg is hurting badly enough that she’s wondering if she’s fucked up the surgeon’s work. She knows she won’t make it to her apartment on foot without help. Slowly she nods and starts to step forward only to find herself scooped up, up, up and held close against a solid chest. “What do you think you’re doing, Kaiba!?”

He frowns at her, stopping her fledgling struggle in its tracks. “Did you think I didn’t know about your injury? I can tell you’re in pain. Now stop fighting me.”

With great care and attention, he settled her into the car, following after her and asking if she’s comfortable. The ride is short with minimal conversation, but Téa can’t take her eyes off of him, her stomach in knots, her brain screaming, and her heart in a jumble of tender feelings, wistful wishes, and spiny regrets.

She wonders at how they both have changed – her, quieter . . . more thoughtful . . . cautious; him, more talkative . . . kinder . . . something more . . . _human._ She isn’t certain how to deal with him, if she wants to. 

Blinking, she finds him staring just as hard at her, his face blank though his eyes are bright as blue flames. She feels scorched in that gaze. She feels even more enflamed when he carries her to her door, asking if she needs further help inside, telling her that he’s already taken care of the groceries and that they should be delivered within the next few minutes.

He smirks at her when he takes his leave, telling her. “I’ll see you soon.”

She doesn’t know what he means by that; but the feeling of foreboding that settles into her bones isn’t _entirely_ unpleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Excuse Me, By the Fire -- Tea is once again owned by the elements but this time she ends up at the Kaiba Mansion.


	4. Excuse Me, By the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea versus the elements . . . and Kaiba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not edited. We're getting closer to the end folks!

He is shirtless (his pants slung low across his hips in a way she didn’t think could possibly real except in advertisements), barefoot, and smirking at her with bedroom eyes made even _more_ appealing by the firelight. The combination has her ovaries screaming at her to _do something_. Her heart is too busy beating a hole through her chest to say much of anything. Her brain . . . her brain is just –

“Do you need a physician, Téa? You look dazed.” He already has a phone in his hand, thumb ready to speed dial his personal doctor, no doubt. It would be sweet if she didn’t know that he knows just what his appearance does to her.

Mentally slapping herself, she attempts to smile, says she’s fine. “Thank you for allowing me to stay tonight.”

He’s about to say something – the glint in his eye warning that it’s probably dangerous and seductive in equal measure, something meant to break her down into a pool of estrogen – but Mokuba comes in, freshly showered and _fully_ dressed in a matched pajama shirt and pants.

_The little shit._

It’s actually Mokuba’s fault that she’s here – here at the Kaiba mansion smelling of Kaiba’s soap and shampoo, wearing one of Kaiba’s button-ups like a sleep shirt – rolled up boxers beneath, and a pair of his socks stretched up her shins like knee highs. 

_It was the weekend. She had time to kill, an itching desire to get out of her apartment and ultimately decided to take a walk as the sun began to go down. It was edging on autumn and the air was just this side of cool without a hint of chill. There was thunder in the distance; however, she figured she wouldn’t be terribly long. She just wanted to stretch her legs (the fall from the other day had aggravated the surgery wounds but had not otherwise done further damage) and explore a bit. After all, Domino had changed in the five years she had been gone._

_Unfortunately, autumn seemed to be bringing with it an ocean’s worth of rain, and she summarily found herself once again stranded in the wet. Only, this time, the downpour was violent – large drops thrown against her skin with the force of bullets, wind gusts that pulled at her hair and clothes and pushed at her legs. Quicker than she could comprehend, her vision was grayed out, staying her run for shelter as she was only too aware that she was close to the road with no way to ensure safety if she moved._

_She edged in the direction she thought away from the street (where cars were still passing though slowly with head and emergency lights flashing). She nearly fell into a ditch but managed to bypass the decline and found a guardrail to lean against, to wait._

_As the rain pounded down on her head and shoulders and back, she had no choice but to bow her head and squint her eyes. She needed glasses. That’s what the optometrist had said. She didn’t mind or anything. These things happen._

_Work was going okay. The restaurant she worked at in the day was upscale and the tips were good; dancing and teaching at the studio fueled her passions; and the pay was enough to live on with a little extra for saving and fun spending. Her apartment building wasn’t a dump, and her neighbors were nice; and she was once again in the same city as most of her close friends and family. Life was good._

_And yet, she was haunted – had been haunted for years – by this feeling of . . . bereavement. No one had died, but . . . . maybe a dream had. She mused if it would be better – if she could cope and move on – if she could talk about it. As it was, the only other person she had shared . . . no, the only other person who might understand (she had her doubts), was the reason she couldn’t talk about it._

_The rain was relentless, flooding her shoes and soaking her socks (the worst feeling in the world), chafing her underwear against the sensitive crease between leg and torso. She wanted desperately to go home, her body beginning to shiver uncontrollably as her skin began to pucker._

_She was too busy watching the water form rivulets then small lakes at her feet then around to notice the motorcycle engine revving then puttering as the driver parked on the shoulder just fifteen feet away. She had just begun to think about flash floods and how vulnerable she was to lightning strikes when feet and legs encased in black leather swept into her line of vision._

_When she looked up, she found Mokuba’s kind eyes, an offered jacket and helmet, and the promise of blessedly dry, safe shelter._

But he didn’t bring her home – the noise of the rain and thunder had made talking especially difficult to understand, particularly through the helmets. No, he brought her to his home – the mansion where his fucking older brother resided (and apparently ran around half-naked when hosting ex-sex partners who legally couldn’t mention her status as such).

Generally, Téa didn’t mind silence – relished it, honestly; however, the silence that falls between she and Kaiba even as Mokuba fills it up with nonsense prattle is painful.

Her tongue is burning to ask and say and plead everything that she signed away her right to ask and say and plead. She wants to know if he missed her at all, if he thought about that night – _what_ he thinks about that night – and if . . . if there is any chance –

“—o to bed. Is that okay, Téa?”

She blinks, her eyes first finding Kaiba’s indulgent look then Mokuba’s worried one. “I’m sorry, Mokuba. I was thinking about some things. Is what okay?”

He scratches the back of his head, glancing at his brother then at her and back again. “I’m going to bed. Just wanted to know if you’ll be okay with Seto.”

Kaiba molds one hand across his face as if trying to wipe the grin from his own lips. “I’m not going to attack her, Mokuba.” Mokuba doesn’t look very convinced, and Téa wonders if – somehow – Mokuba _knows._

She smiles at the young man before rising to hug him. “It’s fine, Mokuba.” And then, because it’s true. “I can take anything he can dish out.”

Mokuba’s hot blush tells her. He knows _everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time - Under the Moon . . . Tea and Seto have an overdue conversation.


	5. Under the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally alone, Tea and Seto have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not edited >-<

Outside and visible through the floor to ceiling windows, the moon is bright, hanging over the city like a fixtureless lightbulb, illuminating the sky to a medium navy while the city takes care of itself. The gas fire place is lit and glowing behind thick, spotless glass, the line of flames like orange forked tongues taunting her as Mokuba hugs his brother and her in turn, wishing them a good night before leaving the two of them . . . . _alone._

Téa chews on the inside of her lips, praying Kaiba will leave as well, wondering if she needs to make an excuse to go herself. The bathroom is only a temporary solution. Maybe she could convince him she was hungry and excuse herself to the kitchen, but then he might say he was puckish too and follow her there. Last resort, she could say she is tired as well and retreat to the designated guestroom Kaiba had shown her earlier; but . . . . there was nothing to do there except watch TV or sleep. She is neither in the mood to do either, and she doubted she had the acumen for acting to convince him otherwise.

She shifts on the edge of the white sofa, feels his eyes on her prickling her skin. There is so much she wants to say . . . confess . . . question; but her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she’s afraid that if she makes one wrong move, says one wrong word he’ll bolt or worse. 

Suddenly, the cushions sink to accommodate his weight and bulk just next to her (despite the _ample_ room of other couch sections) their thighs and arms touching. His heat warms her still-slightly-chilled blood, his sigh stirs the baby hairs near her ear. “I haven’t told anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Téa’s entire body seems to pause. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t breath or twitch. How can such a smart man – a genius really – be so fucking emotionally stupid? “You told Mokuba.” She’s absolutely certain he did, there’s no other explanation for the young man’s reactions. “And I wasn’t worried about that. _I_ wasn’t the one requiring a full physical with blood panel _and_ a signed Non-Disclosure Agreement.” _As if I were a money-grubbing slut or some other untrustworthy lowlife . . . or just your dirty little secret._

The bitterness wasn’t new, but she had believed she had processed and coped with it. Apparently, not so.

He leans forward, elbows on knees. Even boiling with unresolved anger, Téa can’t help but appreciate the sculpted perfection of his back – the width and breadth, the musculature and graceful lines. He really is an unfairly beautiful man. “I didn’t tell Mokuba. Mokuba hacked into my private files and found the NDA. It’s why I’ve had him arranging and coordinating all of Kaiba Corp’s public events – part of his punishment for snooping around.” He ducks his head, running long fingers through his thick hair. “If I’m honest, I think about that night quite often.”

She blinks, suddenly feeling fragile and not knowing why. “Me too.” All the time. Through University and two boyfriends and every time she’s had sex since because, “I’m demisexual.” 

Her hands are clenched in her lap, and she’s not really sure why she told him. 

The discovery of her sexual orientation had been a struggle fraught with confusion, fear and shame. She had not realized she was vastly different from her peers in sexual exploration and exploit until she reached University. After all, she had slept with Tristan only once, they had been drunk, and it had _seemed_ very much a normal stupid teenage thing to do. 

But the girls in her dorm were . . . so much more open to exploring and trying things that – quite frankly – repulsed Téa in terms of trying them herself. By contrast, Téa was often teased for being “vanilla” and “close-minded” and “prudish.” She didn’t find casual sex appealing (her only other partners besides Tristan had been classmates then friends then boyfriends for _over a year_ before she felt comfortable enough to go all the way . . . and Seto Kaiba who was in a league all his own). Similarly, the idea of using toys made her stomach drop – and not in a good way. Being tied up and/or spanked wasn’t something she aspired to either, nor did she really want to restrain anyone else.

Despite being honest, Téa had failed to fully convince her American friends that her . . . non-kink preferences were not indicative of judgement for those who partook in . . . kinky stuff. 

And she isn’t judgemental. She was perfectly fine with _anyone else_ doing those things. She simply didn’t want to do them _herself_. Just as she realized that she didn’t particularly like being touched by strangers. In Japan, she hadn’t had to worry about that much. In America, however, people were always trying to touch her – hand shakes and back pats and side hugs and hair touches and other casual touches that were innocent and made out of friendliness but still had her feeling unreasonably uncomfortable.

It wasn’t until she had a candid discussion with her roommate about the teasing that she had been introduced to demisexuality. Once it was – sort of – explained to her, she had done independent research and, finally, began to understand why she had only ever felt the desire to date her friends and why she seems so very slow in developing sexual feelings for men she was dating seriously. 

But none of what she had found could illuminate the mystery of her one night with Seto Kaiba, and why she wanted desperately to have sex with him again.

“You say that as if it’s supposed to make a difference to me.” His left big toe twitches under Téa’s gaze. Even his feet – large and long with well-manicured nails – are pleasant to look at. “I went to see you, you know? Had front row tickets to opening night when you headlined _La Fille Mal Gardee.”_

Her head swivels to look at him in patent disbelief. “You never said! Why didn’t you say hello? Meet me backstage? _You could have written or called or e-mailed.”_ She doesn’t say how excited she would have been had she known; that she would have dropped everything to spend just a little time with him; that – out of all her friends back home – she had missed him the most (only partially due to the fact that he never wrote or called). 

He narrows his eyes at her, licks his lips. For the first time, she notes the stubble darkening his upper lips, his cheeks, his chin. “I could have.” He shrugs. “I _did_ write to you. Everyday. Never sent them.” He reaches out, his fingertips ghosting over her cheeks and leaving covered in moisture. She doesn’t even realize she is crying. “Couldn’t.”

She’s shaking her head though she doesn’t know exactly what she’s objecting too. “I thought . . . I thought maybe we were kind of, sort of friends or . . . . _something,_ and maybe that makes me stupid. I don’t _know_ , but what do you mean you _couldn’t?_ You write a letter, stuff it in an envelop, stamp, address, mail. Simple. Or you could have just talked to me after the show or before it or _something_.” She sniffs and rubs her nose on his shirt sleeve. “It’s been years, Kaiba; and I’m still tied up in knots about it.”

Kaiba had approached her a few weeks after graduation, a few weeks before she was due to move into the dorms across an ocean. He had sold the idea of fucking each other like a business proposal, and she had refused outright. The second time he spoke to her about it had been more of a conversation but still she refused. Then, one night five days before her departure, he had shown up on her doorstep and appealed to her curiosity. 

There had always been an attraction between them, and he was ready to admit to it. They didn’t have to have sex. He just wanted a little time – a meal, conversation, affection. He wasn’t frantic or pleading, just his normal arrogant, commanding self; and she agreed – to time and food and conversation . . . maybe affection.

For whatever reason, he wanted to keep this between them and – just in case – they would both undergo physicals to establish safety. An NDA would be drafted and signed to protect both parties’ public reputations.

“We were never friends.” His tone brooks no argument, his eyes are cutting. “I don’t want to be friends with you.” Something in her heart breaks, and she’s not entirely sure what. And he’s still talking. “And why did you tell Hawkins I have a sex dungeon in the basement?” A breath and then. “You know there isn’t; and if there _were_ it wouldn’t belong to _me.”_

“Oh God,” Téa stands up, the heels of her hands pressed into her eye sockets. “Goodnight, Kaiba.” She moves to pass him to go to bed when he traps her between his knees, catching her close when she overcorrects and falls over him. “What the hell are you doing, Kaiba?”

“Tell me, Téa,” his voice is low and rough and she wants to be wrapped up, naked, in that sound, “why are you so upset?”

Their faces are only bare inches apart, the line of his nose a point of focus for her as she tries to avoid his sharp gaze. “Does it really matter? You’ve already said you don’t want to be friends. I don’t see the point of bothering you with my company any further.” _What’s past is past._

The arms across her back presses just a little harder. Her arms – braced against the back of the sofa and keeping her torso from his – collapse. His skin is hot against her cheek, her nipples already sensitized by his nearness instantly harden against the firm plain of his chest. “I don’t want to be your friend, Téa. I want to be _more._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Right time, Right Place -- Seto explains what the shit he means. Tea gets to live out a longtime fantasy.


	6. Right Place, Right Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The talk continues. Also, we find out what happened "that" night five years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited.
> 
> Also, there be SEX in these parts. Reader discretion is advised.

“ _I don’t want to be your friend, T_ _éa. I want to be more.”_

She can barely computate the words even though her hearing is perfect and she is fervently watching his lips form the syllables. 

Closing her eyes, she clenches her jaw and furrows her brow. _What the hell did he mean?_ Her breath stuttered as she imagined what he might mean. Something shallow like . . . some sort of by-the-order escort? An assured date when he needed one? Maybe something a little more involved, an arranged booty call or his own personal cuddler? 

She swallows against a lump in her throat as tremors overtake her hands and rock her knees. Or . . . or – she can barely dare to think it – did he mean something more intimate? Permanent? Like a partner . . . a girlfriend . . . a . . . .lover?

She blinks back more confused tears, her voice shattered like her dreams. “Is . . . Is this because I’m back or –”

“I’ve wanted more of you for a long time; but it was never the right place or time.” He slowly reaches out, silently asks permission, takes her hand in his, gentling her fingers to relax into his. She marvels at the length of his fingers compared to hers, the width and thickness of his palm, the dark hairs on the back of his hand. “I’m hoping now is both the right place and right time.”

Sniffling, she uses her free hand to scrub across her teary eyes. “If you had asked me to stay that night, I would have.”

That night had been full of strong words and emotion. She remembers arriving in a long t-shirt with a cut-out neckline and striped leggings. Her hair had been up in a messy pony tail as she had been washing down the walls in her old bedroom. Explaining to her parents that she was going visit an old friend late at night had not amended their disappointment.

He had greeted her with, “Mokuba’s not at home” before leading her inside. At first, they had remained in “safe” areas – the living room, kitchen, and library (she had been suitably impressed). And in that first hour or so, they had both been a little . . . quiet, maybe even shy. She couldn’t remember a time before that when they were alone together.

Soon enough, they were talking about everything and nothing. At one point, Kaiba had proposed a movie and they had chosen one; however, their conversation and – wonder of all wonders – banter had almost instantly erased the idea from their minds. 

It wasn’t until after midnight that Kaiba asked if she would like to spend the night. After a call to her parents, she was given clothes to wear and directed to a guest room “only two doors from my bedroom” Kaiba had said; and it was after Kaiba had thanked her for her company, while they awkwardly said good night, that Téa had felt a sense of abject panic.

She had always felt this . . . _bond_ with Seto that was irrefutable as much as it was irresistible even if she didn’t know how to define it. Maybe it was due to the crazy shit they had been subjected to due to their involvement in the Duel Monsters arena. Maybe it was simply their connection to Mokuba; or perhaps it was something more basic . . . elemental . . . _primal._

Whatever it was, in that moment five years ago, she had felt to her toes that he was the piece she had been missing and she was scared to death to move away where she couldn’t see him if she wanted to. So she had rose up on her tip toes and pulled him down by his pajama top to meet her halfway in a kiss.

It was close mouthed and warm, just a press of lips really – a statement of interest and a proclamation, “I’m here and I want you.” One kiss led to a second then a third and so on. Kaiba’s eyes had been half-lidded and smoldering before he took control, his fingers digging into her hips and steering her more deeply into the bedroom. 

There was no questioning from either to either if it was something they wanted, if they were sure. Téa was certain that Kaiba would stop if she said something just as she was sure he would let her know if he wasn’t on board.

The kissing gave way to full blown making out, her arms holding him close while his trailed over her back, her neck, her hips, and – tentatively – her breasts. Eventually, clothes began to inhabit the floor, and before she really knew that they were going to go there, they were on the bed and his head was between her legs while she licked his cock like her favorite lollipop.

It was the first time she had ever given head. His cum had coated her hand where it circled his shaft, dripping down to pool beneath his scrotum. She hadn’t lasted much longer – Kaiba wasn’t much of a talker, but she had yet to find a fitting rival for his tongue skills.

After that, they had cuddled, Kaiba’s hands mapping her body like a cartographer, his mouth working her over to arousal once more even as he recovered his own. (It was something she had appreciated and looked for in partners thereafter – the way he took his time learning her body). He took her in missionary, his arms caging her head and shoulders, his chest pressing down into hers, his hips fucking into her while her legs wrapped around his lower back. Their mouths were fused when they weren’t gasping or groaning. And when they were gasping or groaning, their eyes were open and watching the other, focused and encouraging. Their bodies were slick with combined sweat and other fluids.

She had wanted it to last forever, feeling so connected with him that it was as if – for a brief, eye-catching moment – they were one being, two halves coming together to make a whole. 

Téa had yearned for that connection ever since but never found it.

In the present, Kaiba shakes his head, one hand taking hold of her chin, forcing her to focus on his face, his eyes. “I would never have asked you then. You needed to realize your dream in New York. I was already living mine. It wouldn’t have been fair, to keep you when we barely liked each other.”

Her knees collapse as he pulls her to straddle his thighs (and even like this, he is STILL taller than her). “Why didn’t you talk to me when you were in New York? Why didn’t you send those letters?”

“You were dating someone by that point. I asked Valentine. I didn’t want to disrupt your life. It wasn’t my place.”

She takes her hand from his and with shaking fingers, frames his face then kisses him like she had the first time. “I don’t want to be your friend either.” _I could love you so easily, Kaiba._

And just like the first time, he doesn’t say anything but holds her tightly, jealously, and kisses her back.

It’s the first time since she arrived back in Japan, in Domino, that she finally feels that she is home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time - Reflection - the last chapter.


	7. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai and Tea have coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end folks! I hope you've enjoyed! Much love to Seto and Tea and all the fans ^_^

Téa couldn’t stop smiling, her lips curving in a secret little grin as she stirred cream into her coffee. The Pokemon café is sparsely inhabited but brightly lit and clean. A giggle bubbles up when she thinks of how games will always be the glue that holds her group of friends together as Mai is the one that chose this venue.

Mai is also five minutes late. But Téa can’t be bothered. Kaiba will be meeting her after work tonight to pick her up for their first real date; and she couldn’t be more excited.

Mai blows in like a blonde storm, all flying golden curls and thundering, whirling shopping bags. She fumbles toward Téa’s table and dumps three large, two medium, and four small bags on one side before dropping with a huff into the other chair. She snaps her fingers, looking over her shoulder to glare at the young man behind the counter. 

Smirking and crossing her arms over the table, Téa watched her friend, “Good shopping day?”

“Oh my God,” Mai rolls her eyes, “I dread the credit card bill, but I couldn’t resist.” She quickly orders her own coffee when the young man steps up with a notepad, demanding coconut sugar instead of cane. “I’m not done, though. Wanna come with? We can get you a cute date outfit.”

Blinking, Téa wraps her finger around her mug. “Who told you I had a date?”

Mai twirls a manicured, purpled painted fingernail in the air, “Mokuba told Serenity who told Joey who told me.” She steals a sip of Téa’s coffee, grimacing. “He also told us about how you fucked my free pass five years ago, traitor.”

Gaping, Téa jerks back her mug, splashing a small amount of coffee on her hand. She cleans up the mess with a napkin, avoiding Mai’s gaze. “I’m going to kill Mokuba.”

Sharp nails tap on the table, a painted mouth puckered in restrained silence as the young man arrived to set Mai’s steaming coffee in front of her. “So what you said on game night was true? About the physical, the NDA, and the sex dungeon?” Then, Mai leans forward. “Tell me he has a sex dungeon. Tell me there are _whips and chains_.”

Stuck between laughing hysterically and screaming, Téa presses both hands to her mouth and bows over the table as she shakes her head then, “No . . . no sex dungeon. Just his bedroom which is very much normal and boring, thank you very much. No whips or chains or . . . anything but himself, really. Yes to the physical and the NDA.”

Mai blows then sips her coffee, squinting at and studying her. “Well, you’re talking about it now. Something happen to the NDA?”

“Er . . . Kaiba and I decided that – since we’re dating now – we don’t need the NDA so he destroyed the hard copy and deleted the master file.”

“Galant . . . So are you going to tell me how the sex was? I will be living my fantasy vicariously through you now.”

Blushing, so hard. “I . . . we only slept together the once and . . . it was his first time but . . .” She meets Mai’s violet eyes head on. “It was transcendant.”

Mouthing an appropriate ‘Wow’, Mai pressed her palms over the table surface. “Are you telling me you spent the night and didn’t take advantage? You’ve already fucked! Why hold back?”

Shushing her friend, Téa ducked a little, hiding her hands beneath the table. “We . . . talked about it. He wants to do it right this time around – dating first; and I like that idea too, so . . . But we did sleep in the same bed.” They had held each other close the entire night, and she had been awakened by his kisses. She had never felt quite so loved even if they were only just beginning.

Mai sighs and takes a long swig of her cooling coffee. “Who knew Kaiba was such a teddy bear?” She smiles, “I’m glad to see you so happy, Téa.” 

Téa glows, color high on her cheeks as she glances down into her shallow coffee, thinking of the taste of Kaiba’s lips, the strength of his hold, the warm firmness of his body. A contented sigh breaks from her. “Thanks, Mai; and I would love to go shopping with you.”

“Great!” Mai grins then snickers, draining the rest of her coffee then fishing some yen out of her purse and slamming it down. “First stop, lingerie!”

“We’re not having sex yet, Mai.”

“Who said we were getting something for you? I just bought a new vibrator. I need an outfit to go with it.”

Téa laughs as they gather Mai’s purchases and leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Tomorrow: Invitation to a Reunion -- Tea goes to a party. Unfortunately, no one warned her where the party would be located.


End file.
